


Haunted

by Mariss95



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariss95/pseuds/Mariss95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity thought she had him figured out. They are walking a fragil line. How close can they get before falling apart?</p><p>[STORY IN HIATUS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It started slow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first Olicity fanfic. I haven't written in a while, so I'm still a little rusty; but I felt the need to pen down these thoughts. What I've written so far stems from exisiting olicity scenes, and contains spoilers (up to 2x13, but this chapter only to 2x08). However, in the following chapters I'm steering away from what's seen on the show and advancing in a direction of my choosing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! If so, please like/comment. Encouragement or constructive criticism is always welcomed :)

**HAUNTED**

_You and I walk a fragile line_

_I have known it all this time_

 

**It started slow.**

A lingering look.

She stood up straighter; Barry's hand on her back, hesitant, much like the boy's demeanor and stuttering speech. Seconds ago she'd felt so comfortable, happy even, lost in the music and the welcomed company. Barry whispered nonsense in her ear –much like she usually did– while they swayed in the middle of the room. Then she had to look behind Barry's shoulder and meet _his_ eyes.

Oliver stood at the corner of the room, an empty glass of champagne in his hand. He was upset; even from across the room she could see the tension in his jaw. Over the last year she'd learnt how to read every line of his face, the subtle changes, and the facades. Right there he was impersonating pre-island Oliver, the one his guests were expecting to see; yet his stance and fixed stare resembled more _her_ Oliver. His eyes pierced at her from across the room; she couldn't look away.

Barry lightly squeezed her hand he held to his chest, breaking the spell. She gave him a faint smile, feeling guilty, and confused about why.

When she looked around again he was gone.

* * *

Troubled thoughts swarmed her head. It wasn't the first sleepless night she'd had because of him, and surely wouldn't be the last. Even before finding out about his secret identity, the riddle that was Oliver Queen kept her awake. Over time curiosity turned into worry and now confusion.

She'd long ago come to terms with her affection for him, as well as the impossibility of ever acting on it… there were far too many reasons not to, which she had to remind herself time and again.

Still all it took was a look from him and she was gone. The gentle touch of his fingers against her neck. The warmth of his palm against her lower back. His deep, gravelly voice in her ear after a long night. It unnerved her to no end how he could disarm her so easily. The worst part was he wasn't even aware of it.

Sure, from the moment they met he knew how flustered she got because of his presence, especially by how she let words tumble from her mouth in a flurry, a stream of consciousness she most definitely wasn't intend on sharing. Yet he failed to notice –or consciously ignored– when his closeness or intensity made her speechless.

She shut her eyes tightly trying to forget the guilty look he gave her in Russia, at the door of his hotel room; or the apologetic tone with which he explained to her why he couldn't really be with anybody. She tried to do away with the memory of his hardened features when the count had her hostage, and the warmth of his palm against her cheek, telling her she was safe, that she was with him. And then there was the intensity in his eyes, as he took her hand in his and told her there wasn't a choice.

With an exasperated sigh she opened her eyes. She was reading into those little moments, the ones that helped her believe it wasn't all one-sided. Although he was an expert at pretending to be unaffected most of the time, she knew how to read him. What kept her up at night was the thought that he didn't care for her _that_ way, the way she did for him, and was misreading the signs.

So she put on her poker face, as best as she could, as she always did, sat behind her desk and worked away, trying her best not to let the thoughts wander to the man next door who had taken over her life.

 

 


	2. Then he almost died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS 2x08 and 2x09
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please like/comment. Encouragement or constructive criticism is always welcomed :)

**Then he almost died.**

She felt the life go out of her seeing Oliver lying still in the debris, motionless, barely living. Everything became a blur as the simple thought of losing him made her heart break. Yet she couldn't fall apart, she had to keep fighting. She turned to Barry, desperation running high. She held Oliver's hand in her own, trying to call him back to her. She fought the tears that threatened to escape her eyes, clouding her vision. And breathed in relief when his eyes fluttered open.

What came after that didn't matter: his pulsing rage against Barry, his pained eyes feeling betrayed. Nothing mattered because he was alive, breathing, next to her. From that moment on she tried to be around him as much as she could. Even though keeping a safe distant would help dissipate his anger towards her she couldn't stay away. She needed to touch him, in every small way possible: a hand to his arm, a caress to the scar on his cheek. With every move he made she felt he would come undone, fade away.

She even dared to hug him, throwing her arms around his neck when he came back safely, consequences be damned. He hugged her back, pressing a firm hand on her back. There was no Barry, or Dig, only him, safe, around her. She needed to feel he was still there.

It didn't help matters that he was hallucinating and, in true Oliver fashion, refusing to stand down. She tried using her loud voice and stare him down… or up, given their height difference. But he was relentless. She occupied herself working with Barry, enjoying his company but trying her best to help them and keep the boy's flirtation at bay. Still one eye was always on Oliver, worrying about every step he made. More than once she caught him looking at her, eyes a bit lost, a deep furrow between his brows. She had dismissed it to the poison. Maybe he was hallucinating about Shado.

She felt a jealous pang when he told them about the island girl. Later on she'd credit her fiery response to being taken by surprise. But looking back she admitted to herself that the mental image of Oliver with somebody else bothered her, more than she would like to admit. So the angry glares Oliver threw at Barry whenever he was standing close to her made her feel slightly better, even though they were probably fueled by Barry knowing his secret.

Barry. Though short, his stay in their world changed her. It reminded her of how easy it could be; just liking someone and them liking you back. Easy, simple. No unspoken words, or buried feelings. Still there was something holding her back, pulling her away. Or rather _someone_. Even if the possibility of Oliver seemed far away, stuck in her imagination, she couldn't let go and move on. The old Felicity would call her foolish, but how she had changed over the past year…

So she let Barry go, as bittersweet as it had felt it didn't break her down. She ended the phone call, turned around and faced her hero.


	3. A phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS 2x10   
> Enjoy!

**A phone call.**

That’s all it took and she was gone. Though she’d barely known Barry for a week it felt like the right thing to do. He’d come waltzing into her life and fixed it when it was crumbling to pieces. Seeing him in a hospital bed, the even sound of the machines surrounding them, she felt woeful; yet not broken, or hopeless as she’d been merely a couple days before, when she held Oliver’s face in her hands. She smiled humorlessly and took Barry’s hand, wishing it wasn’t so complicated, and her heart not being taken by somebody else.

Coming back did nothing to conciliate her thoughts as Oliver didn’t seem like his normal self. As she came into the office he gave her a faint smile, warmth surrounding her instantly. She was home. Yet before she could read into it the wall he surrounded himself with came up again.

Then the once welcoming feel of the foundry became tense, and because of one mistake he jumped at her throat.

It felt wrong. Having Oliver tell her off, with the tone he only used as the arrow. His anger and disappointment slay her, so she forced herself to walk away. She’d never seen him that way, not towards her. _Her_ Oliver knew how far to push, how hard she worked for him, how guilty she’d feel. She held onto the tears until her apartment door closed behind her.

Then he was on the verge of death, once again. His voice barely a whisper in her ear as he asked her how to avoid an explosion. A breath she didn’t knew was holding left her lips as he told her he was ok. The way her life depended on that answer made her feel incredibly weak.

It wasn’t until he was safe, back in the foundry, that she allowed anger to resurface. Then he breathed an apology, something so rare of him yet sounded profoundly honest. The vulnerability with which he told her he needed her was overwhelming. She joked trying to lighten the mood, and then he had to take her breath away again.

“You’re my partner.”

His eyes held hers, as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. This, _he_ was everything, whether she liked it or not, when it came to Oliver Queen she was gone, lost in the depth of his blue eyes, on the lines of his face, on the mysteries and all that he left untold, that she was more than eager to shine light to.

He was the first one to look away, bringing up Barry. Her face fell as he tried to make her feel better, as if Barry was the reason for her sorrow. Then a warm hand stopped her mid-rant, their eyes meeting again. No words were needed. Blue eyes met, a familiar warmth seeping into her. He lingered, more that he usually did. And something changed.

His eyes left hers and, for the briefest moment, darted down to her lips. They parted without thought and she shuddered. And then the moment was gone.

His hand fell from her shoulder, the heat of his palm instantly missed. He turned around and breathed in deeply, collecting himself. She stepped toward him, hesitant, itching to press for answers but knowing him well enough to expect none.

“Oliver” she whispered fearfully. The tension on his shoulders already telling her his wall was coming up, still she had to try to hold on to him. Her fingers brushed against his arm and he turned around, façade already in place. He flashed a fake smile, the one she’s more than used to spot, and told her a rushed goodbye.

In the emptiness of the foundry she felt small. Confused. Frustrated. As she turned the lights off Felicity raised her own wall, a promise of not letting that lead her on leaving her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where the story goes slightly AU, changing the course of their relationship as it's seen in the show.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please like/comment. Encouragement or constructive criticism is always welcomed :)


	4. Laurel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far this has been my favorite chapter to write. Hope you guys like it!  
> SPOILERS 2x11

**Laurel**. Gorgeous, stunning Laurel.

She knew they still were close friends, albeit with the strangest history ever, but close; and that Oliver had a weakness when it came to her. Still seeing it firsthand, how easily he dove head first into trouble for her, hurt like hell. If there was a word to describe Oliver was collected. Always in control, of his emotions, carefully hidden behind a permanent mask; of his body, as a result of years of training; of his heart. Except when it came to Laurel.

The first instinct was to resent her for having that effect on him. But Felicity wasn't really the jealous type. She didn't have a hold of Oliver; she was his friend, his IT girl, secretary, his partner. And it was enough… it had to be.

There were days when it felt like enough, being by his side through it all, trying to lend a helping hand when he didn't push her away. Still there were others when she longed for more.

If she was being honest with herself what hurt the most wasn't really that it was Laurel per se, but that it wasn't her. She had seen him at his lowest point, alone, battered and bruised, and no matter how hard she tried he never let her all the way in. She rarely got to see glimpses of the real Oliver, behind whatever mask he sported at the moment, but she knew he was broken. If only he would lean on her, share the burden he carries. Until then she would try to lighten the load by making him smile. Whether it was joking around, babbling or sharing more awkward thoughts than she cared form, seeing his hard features soften and a small smile appear on his face made her feel accomplished.

"You certainly know how to talk yourself out of a victory" she quipped, satisfied when his eyes lightened and he bantered back. It lasted merely a second and then he was back to worrying, this time about Roy. She saw how deflated he looked, the guilt of Laurel's shooting hanging above him. The other word to describe Oliver beside collected definitely was guilt-ridden, even when he wasn't at fault. The amount of pressure and responsibility he put on himself was inhuman, and she could see by his posture and the lines of his face how it took a toll on him.

That night, as the lair emptied, she walked around the darkness remembering the one time he'd let her in.

 

* * *

_The floor shook beneath her feet, debris falling all around. The computers started to fail as the tension lowered. An explosion went out behind her; she shrieked terrified. Unshed tears blurred her vision and all she could do to keep it together was grip the edge of her desk. This was it, she thought hopelessly._

_She'd always taken pride in being somewhat of an optimist but being underground a metal structure during an earthquake she knew her chances weren't good. Still her thoughts wandered to Oliver. She hoped he made it through this. As if he hadn't had it bad before, he'd just found out his mother had plotted to destroy the city. And then there was Tommy._

_She listened to Oliver's muffled cries as his best friend died in his arms, the way his voice broke calling his name, how he blamed himself for it all. All she could do was sit and listen, feeling intrusive and at the same time wishing she could be there, holding his hand._

_She turned the coms off, held her legs to her chest and broke down; letting herself feel everything she'd been holding back._

_It wasn't until a few hours later that he came back to the foundry, tossed through the debris and reached her side. She wasn't asleep, just numb; her head still crawled against her chest. His hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up, dried tears on her cheeks. She mouthed an apology he dismissed and took the hand laying on her shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself, trying to get a grip on the downpour of emotions that were bottling up inside. She took the time to study his features, letting her eyes wander to the bloodstain in his jacket._

" _You're hurt" she gasped, her voice hoarse, tainted with worry. His eyes met hers and her heart broke because he looked utterly defeated. He always walked with so much purpose, determination, but the Oliver that stood beside her was anything but that. She rose from her seat, instantly feeling the loss of his hand in hers, and carefully walked to their medical cabinet. When she came back to his side, she tossed the medical supplies on her desk and made him sit in her chair. He reluctantly let her help, barely flinching as she cleaned his wound. His eyes were lost in the distance, thoughts surely drifting further away. Darkness surrounded them as she worked on silence. When done she looked at him, silent tears streaming down his face._

" _Oliver" she breathed. She stood in front of him, her hands reaching to hold his face. His grief-stricken eyes met hers and her breath caught in her throat at how much pain was held in them. She wiped his tears away with her thumbs, biting her lips to suppress the load of questions that were threatening to be voiced; the main one being 'are you okay?' for which she already had an answer. His eyes pierced through her, a silent prayer for help. She was terrified of him shielding himself away, as he always did. Her hands kept caressing his face softly, wishing the pain away._

" _I'm really sorry, Oliver" she muttered, trying to convey as much emotion as possible, without scaring him away. He hesitated for a moment, trying to gather enough strength to put his walls up and walk away, but finding none. Then his hands were at her hips, tugging her forward, as his parted. He looked up at her stunned face, asking for permission and at her slight nod he rested his forehead against her stomach. Breathing out deeply he let go, tears now falling freely down his face, dampening her shirt. She could barely keep it together, but knew she had to, for his sake. So she hugged him, lightly running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion, trying to keep her own tears at bay._

_They stayed there, holding each other as if their lives depended on it. She didn't know how much time had passed when he pulled away, hands still on her hips, and looked up, their eyes locking. She wiped the remaining tears from his face as he did with hers, standing up. His mouth rose in a humorless smile, and then he was gone; an untold promise lingering in the air: they weren't going to talk about it._

_She cleaned up and went home, knowing full well he wouldn't bring it up again, but content that he'd finally allowed himself to feel, even if it hurt like hell._ _The next day, he was gone._

 

* * *

So much had been lost that day: his best friend, her innocence, his purpose. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it still broke her heart knowing he lived with that pain. The best she could do was making sure he knew she was there to let it all out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little olicity flashback for you all :)  
> Thank you for reading! Please like/comment. As always, encouragement or constructive criticism is always welcomed :)


	5. A setback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, thank you so much to everyone who comments, likes or adds this story!  
> Though now I’m writing olicity one-shots as well I promise I won’t leave this story behind.  
> Enjoy!  
> SPOILERS 2x12

**A setback.**

That’s what that whole case felt like. The week had already been tense, with Roy’s training going south, leaving Oliver even angrier than usual. Then the Bronze tiger reappeared, leading them straight to Merlyn’s. That name alone made the room silent, the usual easiness of their partnership gone; the scars Malcolm Merlyn had left in them all too fresh.

She had seen how Oliver’s eyes darkened just by hearing his name, so his annoyance at having to deal with the memories at his house was only too evident, just by listening to his voice on the com. Still when he came back to the foundry there wasn’t only anger in his stance and the edge of his voice, but a certain weight he lacked before. She studied him, as he replayed what he’d learnt: the earthquake device, Roy’s fury, Slade, Shado. His voice laced with regret when he talked about them, eyes lost in the distance.

Dig saw this as his cue to leave him alone. Felicity, though, liked to push his boundaries. She approached him carefully, fidgeting with the watch in her hands. Oliver’s back was to her as he was setting his gear aside and taking his jacket off.

“Oliver” she called, hesitantly. He turned around and eyed her curiously. She swallowed and thought of the best way to approach this.

“Is there something wrong?” she said, the only response she got from him was his eyebrows rising. “I mean, I know there’s a lot going on, most of it wrong. Like the device… prototype device, and then there’s the ill-named assassin on the loose.” she rumbled on, eyes anywhere but on him; his brow furrowing.

“Felicity” he said sternly. She stopped mid-rant and looked at his expectant face.

“Right.” Putting the watch down by her desk she walked in his direction, eyes glued to the ground. “What I meant was, are _you_ ok? There seems to be something bothering you.” With that she looked up at him and seeing him start to shrug it off she raised an accusing finger and stood her ground “and please don’t state the obvious, loose assassin, life threatening mobster excuse. I can read through those lies.” She ended, proudly.

He looked taken aback, certainly not expecting anyone to call his bluff. Yet Felicity always managed to surprise him.

He hesitated, wondering how much to share, trying to gauge her response. Then he met her eyes and softly said “I saw Tommy”. The mild annoyance that painted her features before turned to sorrow, an apology already forming on her lips. He stopped her, taking a step forward.

“I came across a framed picture of him, in the hall. It was quite recent, probably from last year. He had a smile on his face… typical Tommy.” Though the corners of his lips rose at that comment his voice was still somber, low; his eyes fixed in the distance, like stuck in the past. “He would always crack a joke just before we had our picture taken, so we’d both be smiling. ‘Looking our best’, he’d say.” She smiled faintly, for she hadn’t known him well but glad that Oliver was sharing those precious memories with her.

His features clouded with worry as he kept going. “When I came back he complained about that: me not smiling as much. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I haven’t done that in so long it just didn’t felt right anymore.”

His voice was tainted with pain. She felt the need to comfort him, yet was too afraid that he would put his guard up. Silence stretched between them and then he looked at her, like snapping out of a haze. She could see her sorrow mirrored in his blue eyes. She closed the distance between them and caressed his cheek, blue eyes closing at her touch.

“Felicity” he warned, his voice barely a whisper.

“I know” she breathed, not sure if he was urging her to walk away or take it a step forward, yet terrified of asking.

“I’m sorry… for all of it. But Tommy… I know he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. It was not your fault.” His eyes snapped open, meeting hers, lips parting to voice his response. “Don’t” she stopped him, her thumb pressing against his mouth. “We’re not arguing about this. I know you feel like it is all on your shoulders, but it’s really not. If it weren’t for you they would all be dead: Laurel, detective Lance, Thea, Roy. Me.” He shook under the intensity of her stare. “You are a hero, Oliver. Believe that.”

He stood still before her, a soft hand still holding his face. Her eyes were fixed on his, wishing the words would sink in. She lingered, not wanting to break the spell, but knowing this wasn’t the time to push any further. So she let her hand fall to her side and, with one final look his way, walked away.

Oliver stood silent in the gloomy basement, now feeling just a faint, uncomfortable pang in his chest. He walked to the desk, hands leaning on the back of her chair, and wondered how she had that affect on him. In his world so void of hope and happiness, she was a light, an unbridled force that shook him awake. As he let her words wash over him he wondered where he would be without Felicity Smoak in his life, terrified of ever finding out the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are getting closer and closer…   
> Thank you for reading! Please like/comment :)


End file.
